


Sammy Says

by poD7et



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel if you squint - Freeform, Diary/Journal, Gen, I'm an asshole, POV Sam Winchester, Wincest if you squint, aromatic!dean, maybe you should read this while squinting, that wasn't a typo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 22:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10422891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poD7et/pseuds/poD7et
Summary: Sam summarizes the Supernatural seasons through some serious journaling.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this because I headcanon aromantic!Dean.
> 
> And I saw a tumblr post that had a typo.
> 
> It was asking about evidence for "aromatic!Dean"
> 
> And I did a dumb.
> 
> Sorry/not sorry . . .

**Day 1:**

I was almost ready to accept that the supernatural wasn’t real. 

I told my friends not to be scared of ghosts. 

I told them there wasn’t a monster hiding under their beds. 

I thought that if I wished hard enough, it would be true. 

But I still carried a knife and a bottle of holy water . . . just in case. 

And last night, it proved to be useful. It wasn’t a witch or a wraith; it was something much worse . . . 

It smelled of gunpowder, leather, beer, and something else -- something familiar. And with it came all the old memories that for years I tried to forget.

Breathing hard from the exertion and 180 pounds of flesh pressing on my chest, I knew who it was before it spoke -- it was Dean. 

I hadn’t seen him in years. And the last time we spoke, it wasn’t exactly civil. 

We wrestled like old times. He got the best of me, but only because I wasn’t expecting it.

Dean would say something about how that would be the death of me.

I could almost hear Dad in his voice (that honestly was only in my head).

And then, I stopped holding back.

I pinned him to the ground. 

And just breathed in his musk.

It feels weird to write “musk”.

Is that even a word that people use?

Like outside of harlequin novels? 

But how else am I supposed to describe it? It’s not a cologne. Or if it is . . . I’ve never found the bottle.

Dean just smells that good.

God.

This is fucked up.

**Day 13:**

So I finally met “Cassie” for the first time. Dean apparently loved her or something. But ummm . . . it didn’t work out.

He even broke the golden rule of rules: DO NOT TELL PEOPLE ABOUT WHAT WE DO.

He must’ve really loved her or something. 

Stop.

No.

Lies.

He DID love her.

And he’s still loving her.

He smells like sex.

And I’m proud of him.

I’ve never seen this side of him before. And quite frankly I love it. Makes him seem almost human.

And as long as I’m not there when it happens (because seriously those two need to get a room), I’m 100% down for Dean expressing his feelings or whatever.

**Day 29:**

Dean smells like death.

Or maybe that’s just what hospitals smell like.

I can’t tell anymore. 

The life of a hunter . . .

I smell it everywhere I go. But it smells like a hospital.

Not the disinfectant.

That’s different. 

I smell death.

Dean won’t admit it.

But I smell death on him. And I can’t let him die. I won’t let it happen. Not after I finally have my brother back. I hate him and want to kill him. But I’ll be damned if I let anyone else take that honor from me. 

I’ll be damned.

**Day 29:**

I hate being right.

RIP John Winchester.

We never saw eye to eye. But you’re still family. 

**Day Day 41:**

It’s Dean’s last night on Earth . . .

But not if I can help it.

He doesn’t smell like death.

I won’t let him.

Tonight is Dean’s last night on Earth.

But he doesn’t smell like death.

He smells of goofer dust and fire and brimstone.

He doesn’t smell like death.

He can’t.

He don’t.

I _won’t_ let him.

Today Dean Winchester lives.

**Day 89:**

Dean is alive.

He smells like moldy wood . . . but he is alive.

He smells like the damp earth that he claws his way through on his way back to the realm of the living.

Dean is alive.

And smells faintly of sulfur.

I mean, how could he not? He was in Hell for god knows how long.

But that was weeks ago.

The scent should’ve faded.

But maybe that’s not how it works.

Dean smells like Dean and sulfur and something else. Something new. Something supernatural. But Dean can’t (or won’t) smell it too. 

Cas can’t smell it either.

Maybe it’s all in my head.

**Day 114:**

Of all the things . . . I never thought I’d meet a cupid. 

_CUPIDS ARE REAL._

We um . . . “shook hands”.

I’d rather not go into it . . . even if no one else will ever read this. In fact, just writing this much is almost too much. But I suppose it was a life altering event and deserves to be recorded here.

And while we were shaking hands, I caught his scent.

It was so familiar, yet not quite.

He smelled like a new baby.

HAH!

New Baby!

Definitely not a new car smell. Or even an old *cough* _vintage_ *cough* smell. Dean needs to get a life. Maybe I should get him a “New Baby” scented air freshener. 

But Dean’s musk is too strong. He smells of leather and food, which is strange considering his lack of appetite.

Cas on the other hand has been scarfing the red meat like it’s his business . . .

**Day 134:**

I haven’t ever seen Dean like this before. He just came from the bar and smells like sweat and bile and whiskey. 

Anyone else wouldn’t think twice. 

Sam thinks twice.

But he finds it hard to care. He should care. Dean’s his brother . . . he should care . . .

**Day 157:**

Dean(?) smells like expensive cologne and vegetable smoothies.

Not-Cas smells of mothballs and cheap deodorant.

I wonder what I smell like . . . it’s actually pretty hard to smell yourself. 

But now that I think of it, beneath the expensive cologne, Dean (Jensen?) smells of shitty anti-perspirant. Why? If he can afford the fragrances, why skimp on the deodorant? 

**Day 171:**

Clowns.

Why did it have to be clowns?

. . . And glitter . . .

And everything smelled of old bleach masking musty old pee and sweat that kiddie ball pits harbor.

Fucking clowns.

**Day 193:**

Rhis id nto good. I can tasyte itt eveyrthime i burpa. And I can’t sotpe hiccpusing. But it’s ntio all bahyd. Almsot feelst liek home.HOw fuicked up istha? It’s liek dad and Deean all rolel d up into one. And they are here with em now. Smelling iof whiseky and sex. Did dI have the xes tonight? HOpe I used protection. Dean will alweyas proetc te me. He lookse out f9ro me. Alwyas did. He’s a godo brother. I am not a godo borhter. I don’t eteareat him wlel enough. I should let hiomi know how much Ilobe him. He’s the dad I walwys wished I hatd. I lobeve Dean. HE doesn’t deserve mea. Why can’t i be beteree.

**Day 201:**

Dean smells of blood and guts and . . . something else. 

It’s so familiar, and yet . . . I can’t place. It. But it smells like home. I know it’s cliche, but it’s true. 

And even if Dean’s been ultra-bitchy recently, it’s so damn good to have him back. I thought he was dead. And while he complains about not looking for him . . . while he complains about the scent of wet-dog in the Impala . . . while he complains, I know it’s because he cares.

He doesn’t know how to say it, but Dean . . . I know it’s you. 

It’s not just the blood and sweat and fear. 

It’s more than that.

It’s you.

And now that you’re here, I’m finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> And of course, this was a spncoldesthits!
> 
> I forgot to tag squares/use squares while writing...because drunk. Um, let's say free square, puns (i'm sure there was at least one), and surprise hug? Shhhh... don't think too hard


End file.
